Brenda Minton - His Little Cowgirl

“What if he’s gone and I don’t get to say goodbye?” She whispered into the silent cab of the truck, blinking away the sting of tears.

She couldn’t think of her dad not being in her life. He had always been there for her. He had been the one holding her hand when her mother died, and the one who drove her to the hospital when Meg was born.

Her dad had been the one who hadn’t condemned her for her mistake. He had loved her and shown mercy. He had insisted that everyone makes mistakes. Without those mistakes, why would a person need grace?

Those who are healthy aren’t in need of a physician. In those months after she had returned from Wyoming, she had really come to understand the words Jesus had spoken and the wonderful healing of forgiveness.

Her dad had taught her to bait a hook, and to train a horse. He had taught her how to have faith, and to smile even when smiling wasn’t easy.

“Please, God, don’t take him from me now.”

Roots, this all felt very much like putting down roots. Cody’s mind swirled as he waited for Bailey to arrive.

In the last few years he hadn’t stayed in one place longer than a month. He usually spent time between events parked at the farm of a friend where he kept his livestock.

With Bailey’s dad sick and Meg in his arms, thoughts of leaving fled. He had never known how to stick. Now he didn’t know how he could ever think of leaving.

He knew himself well enough to know that before long the lure of bull riding would tug on him. Between now and then he would pray, hoping that when the time came he would make the right choices.

He knew enough to know that there wouldn’t be any easy answers.

The door of the ER swished open, bringing a gust of warm air from the outside. Cody shifted the sleeping child in his lap and turned. Bailey stood on the threshold of the door, keeping it from closing. She watched him with a look of careful calculation, her gaze drifting from his face to her daughter.

Their daughter.

He couldn’t stand up to greet her, not with Meg curled like one of her kittens, snuggling against his chest. She felt good there, and he didn’t want to let go.

Cody didn’t want to hurt Bailey. It seemed a little too late for that. Her brown eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and if he could have held them both, he would have.

Bailey crossed to where he was sitting. She looked young, and alone. She looked more vulnerable than the twenty-two-year-old young woman he’d known in Wyoming.

“Is he…”

“He’s alive.” He answered the question she didn’t have the heart to ask. “He had an episode with his breathing. They’re running tests. That’s all they’ll tell me because I’m not family.”

Bailey sat down next to him. “I don’t know what I’ll do without him.”

“He isn’t gone, Bailey.”

She only nodded. Shifting, he pulled a hand free and reached to cover her arm. With a sigh she looked up, nodding as if she knew that he wanted to comfort her. Her lips were drawn in and her eyes melting with tears. The weight of the world was on her shoulders.

He wanted to take that weight from her. He wanted to ease the burden. He wanted to hold her. He moved his arm, circling her shoulders and drawing her close, ignoring the way she resisted, and then feeling when she chose to accept. Her shoulder moved and she leaned against him, crumbling into his side.

“I won’t leave you alone.” He whispered the words, unsure if she heard but feeling good about the promise.

Time to cowboy up, Cody. He could almost hear his grandfather say the words to a little boy who had fallen off his pony.

The door across from them opened. A doctor walked into the room, made a quick scan of the area and headed in their direction. He didn’t look like a man about to give the worst news a family could hear. Cody breathed a sigh of relief.

“Ms. Cross, I’m Dr. Ashford. Your dad is resting now. We’ve given him something to help him sleep and moved him to the second floor. You should be able to take him home in a day or two.” He reached for a chair and pulled it close to them. “I’m not going to lie—this isn’t going to be an easy time, and it might be better if you let us send him to a skilled-care facility.”

“I want him at home. He belongs at home.” Her stubborn chin went up and Cody shot the doctor a warning look.

“The family always wants that, but you have to consider yourself. How are you going to take care of him? You work, you go to town, and he’s there alone.”

Bailey’s eyes closed and she nodded. Her face paled and Cody knew what she was thinking. She was blaming herself for not being there when her dad collapsed. She was thinking of all the ways she’d let him down.

“Bailey, you aren’t to blame for today. I was there. I shouldn’t have left him alone.”

“He isn’t your responsibility—he’s mine.” She moved out of the circle of his arm. “I should have been there for him.”

The doctor cleared his throat. “Neither of you are to blame. Ms. Cross, your father has cancer. He isn’t going to get better. He’s going to get worse. You have to accept that you aren’t going to be able to give him the twenty-four-hour-a-day care that he needs.”

“But I want him home now, while he can be at home.”

“You have to think about…”

“He’s my responsibility,” Bailey insisted, cutting off the doctor’s objections. This time her tone was firm enough to stir Meg.

“Bailey, you have two choices.” Cody got her attention with that, and she glanced up at him. “You can either let me help or you can put your dad in a facility where he can be watched over while you’re at work.”

She shifted her gaze away, focusing on the windows that framed a hot August day and afternoon traffic. “I know. I just didn’t want it to be this way. I wanted him to get better.”

“He can’t, Bailey, not on this earth. I know that isn’t what you want to hear, but sometimes the way God heals is by bringing a person home to Him, to a new body and a new life.”

Shock and then relief flooded her expression as tears pooled in her eyes and then started to flow. Cody shifted Meg and reached to pull Bailey back into his arms.

Her head tucked under his chin and her body racked with grief, he held her close and let her cry. He wondered if she had cried at all before then, or if she had been so busy taking care of everyone else that she hadn’t allowed herself to grieve.

He glanced up, making eye contact with the doctor, who was looking at his watch and starting to move. Bailey’s sobs quieted and she leaned against his side. Meg had awoken and was touching her mother’s face, her sweet little hands stroking Bailey’s cheek.

How had he gotten himself into this? Last week he had been a guy with a new faith in God and in himself, trying to make changes and making amends. And now he was here, holding Bailey and knowing he couldn’t leave.

Adjusting to the wild buck of a bull was easy compared with this. A bull went one direction, and a countermove on his part put him back in control, back in center. No such luck with this situation.

On a bull they would have called the situation, “getting pulled down in the well.”

“Bailey, I won’t let you go through this alone.”

She moved from his embrace, as if his words were the catalyst she had needed to regain her strength. The strong Bailey was back, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand.

“I appreciate your offer to help, Cody. I really do, but I know that you have a life and places you have to be.”

He shook his head at what she probably considered was a very logical statement. To him it meant that she still didn’t expect him to stay. And it probably meant that she didn’t want him in her life.

“Bailey, we’ll talk about the future, but for now I’m staying and I’m going to help you with your dad and with the farm.”

He meant it, and she would have to learn that his word was good.

Bailey looked out of the kitchen window and breathed in the cool morning breeze. She used to love lazy summer mornings, the kind that promised a warm day and not too much humidity. Two years ago she would have spent the morning doing chores and then packed a picnic to take to the lake.

This was a new day. Her dad was home from the hospital, but the doctor was certain they wouldn’t have him for long. How did a person process that information?

By going on with life, as if nothing was wrong? Bailey was trying. She was making breakfast, thinking about work on her to-do list and planning for Meg’s first day of school in two weeks.

School—that meant letting go of her little girl, and it meant school supplies and new clothes. In the middle of all of the normal life thoughts was the reality. Her dad was in bed, and Cody was living in an RV outside her back door.

How could she pretend life was normal?

Eggs sizzled in the pan on the stove, and the aroma of fresh coffee drifted through the room, mixing with the sweet smell of a freshly mown lawn. Bailey glanced out the window again, eyeing the mower still sitting next to the shed, and then her gaze shifted to the man who had done the mowing. He walked out of the barn, his hat pushed back to expose a suntanned face.

It should have felt good, seeing the work he’d done in the two days since her dad had come home from the hospital. Eggs frying and coffee brewing should have been normal things, signaling a normal morning on a working farm. Instead these were signs of her weakening attempts at keeping things under control. Make breakfast, do the laundry, dust the furniture, which would only get dusty again, the little things that signified life was still moving forward.

She reached into the cabinet for a plate and slid the eggs out of the skillet. A light rap on the back door and her back instinctively stiffened.

“It’s open.”

The screen door creaked and booted footsteps clicked on the linoleum. And then he was there, next to her, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Had she actually dreamed of this, wanted this to be her life—Cody in her kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee, sitting across from her eating breakfast?

If so, the dream had faded. Now she dreamed of other things, of making it, and of a stable full of other people’s horses to be trained, and money in the bank. Romance was the last thing on her mind, especially when she hadn’t even brushed her teeth this morning and her hair was in a scraggly ponytail.

It didn’t help that he smelled good, like soap and leather. Maybe romance wasn’t the last thing on her mind. This opened the door for other thoughts, the kind she quickly brushed away, reminders of his hand on her cheek and the way it had felt to be in his arms.

“Are you going to work today?” He turned and leaned against the counter, his legs crossed at the ankles and the cup of coffee lifted to his lips.

“I can’t work.” She answered his question as she flipped a couple of eggs and a few slices of bacon on the plate with already buttered toast.

“Can’t work? Why?”

“Because my dad needs me here. I can’t leave him alone with Meg.” She handed him the plate.

Cody set his plate down on the counter. He turned to face her, his jaw muscle working. Bailey shifted her gaze from the storm brewing in his blue eyes. She picked up the dishrag and wiped crumbs from the toaster off the counter. A strong, tanned hand covered hers, stopping her efforts to distract herself. She slid her hand out from under his and looked up.

“I’m here, Bailey. I’m trying to help you.”